


The Interview

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [10]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU.  Karl lands in Amsterdam and sets out to explore how he might make a living. Along the way, he meets Dom and Elijah.  Part 10 in the Beguilement universe.  First posted on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/58787.html#cutid1">here</a> with reader comments and chapter banner by Stormatdusk.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interview

Part One

On Karl's first day in Amsterdam, he checks into a cheap hotel along with a newly-acquired flight attendant, a young Emirati named Rashid. Karl has kindly let Rashid pick him up so that he can sleep off his jet lag after exactly twenty-nine hours and forty-eight minutes cooped up inside a winged metal tube, Auckland to Amsterdam, give or take a few stops for transfers and refuelling. During this cross-global marathon, Karl had scored a fully empty centre row on the half-booked leg from Melbourne to Dubai, allowing him to stretch out over four cushions and catch what one calls rest in such environments. Upon arriving at their Dutch hotel, Karl also scores an enthusiastic blow job and less ambitious reaming courtesy of Rashid who'd only boarded during a crew change in Dubai and is therefore more committed than Karl about furthering international relations. Karl's lack of participation is in no way viewed by the young attendant as a sign of disrespect or disinterest, so versed is the latter in the trials of jet lag. Thus Rashid does not regard it an insult when Karl, who had been the most flirtatious of passengers on the last leg of the journey, falls asleep while being taken from behind. The young steward simply finishes his business and then pulls Karl to the other side of the bed so that he might enjoy a good night's sleep himself. 

Day two finds Karl remarkably refreshed and delighted to learn that Rashid is at the end of a run and therefore on a three-night layover which he'd rather like to spend with Karl. Rashid takes Karl sightseeing, for he is very familiar with Amsterdam. It is over beer at lunch that Karl comes to learn that while alcohol and gay sex are forbidden in Rashid's faith, Rashid is himself like many of his brethren when it comes to educating themselves about the immoral ways of the West. Perhaps, Rashid suggests, they might spend some time that evening in the Red Light District? 

So that evening, they stroll along the window brothels, receiving many invitations from the women attempting to ply their trade in their little boxed nests, for they are two very handsome men. But most of their time is spent checking out the gay life along Warmoesstraat. 

Midnight finds them well ensconced in Club Fuxxx. After their first drink and a bit of dancing, they part company for a few hours, enjoying the hospitality of other guests in a few upstairs play rooms. They roll into their hotel around 3:30am, and Karl promptly extends to Rashid his gratitude for the free accommodations he's been given over the last two nights.

By late morning of day three, Rashid is telling Karl that he'll be outbound the next day, and that Karl really won't know what a good time Amsterdam can offer until he samples some of the high-end escorts who serve the corporate and diplomatic services of The Netherlands. Would Karl be interested in going Dutch, pardon the pun, on a threesome? Rashid can take care of the arrangements. 

Karl has been careful to carry few belongings with him during his journey, and that includes money, the bulk of which he wired ahead into a new account at an Amsterdam bank. As curious as he is to join Rashid, he plays it cautiously and instead tells him that he needs to mind his funds. As far as Karl's concerned, one never knows when a flight attendant might be a lapsed hustler like himself. Perhaps he might join them for a drink prior to the evening's activities, get to see what he'll be missing? Rashid is more than happy to oblige; his only request is that Karl not return to their room before midnight.

It is therefore on the evening of Karl's third day in Amsterdam that he and Rashid meet Dom at a canal café, and Dominic, fittingly suited and painted and witty as a wag, charms the new arrival. 

"So, Rashid," Dom says once their drinks have arrived. "You hadn't said that Karl would be joining us."

"Nah, mate," Karl cuts in to save Rashid the embarrassment of explaining away Karl's frugality. "I just wanted to meet you. I'm off to an appointment in a bit."

"Pity," Dom replies, kohled eyes full bore on Karl's.

It is a little after 10:30 when Karl arrives back at the hotel. He kills time across the street for a full hour, waiting to see Dom leave, and he's begun to think maybe Rashid's date ended earlier than expected when Dom spills out of the hotel's doors to the sidewalk, mobile already at his ear. Karl splits the air with a whistle, and when Dom searches for its source, Karl flags him and crosses over.

"You can go in now," Dom says with an amused grin after cutting his call short. 

Karl grimaces at being sussed out. "So you know I've been staying with him while I get myself sorted."

"If scratching an itch is how you sort yourself, mate, he told me."

"And I suppose he told you that I'm broke."

"Not an obstacle," Dom says, laying it on the table.

One brow and the corresponding corner of Karl's mouth rise in tandem. "Would you be up for a coffee sometime?" he says.

"Is that a Kiwi euphemism?" Dom asks. He's pretty up on the worldly ways of saying "a fuck" but this is a new one.

"No," Karl says, stretching out the vowel. "It's a beverage, comes in a cup, sometimes with cream and sugar. You just seem the person who might fill me in a little on how to get my bearings around here." 

"So what's your schedule for the next hour?" Dom says. 

Dom's never been risk averse. His livelihood deals with strangers, and he's met enough men and been there himself often enough to separate a grifter from a bloke who's simply an opportunist. He tells Karl there's a nice bar down the street with a good kitchen and that he could use a bite, "to recharge my batteries." 

Karl tells him to lead on, and they begin walking.

"I'm not going to put you up," Dom tells him, "just so that's clear. And if you plan on rolling me for me night's wages, don't let the poncy thing fool you. I box for exercise."

"Duly noted," Karl laughs and he dips his head sideways in feigned confidence. "Contrary to what Rashid thinks, I've already booked a furnished flat and transferred into a bank account." 

"Stellar," Dom says. Although he's not in the habit of delivering civic orientation, he's very much in the habit of picking up tall, dark and handsome, if for no other reason than a little sport-fucking from time to time keeps the whoredom mix diluted. 

 

Part Two

On day seven of Karl's arrival, he leaves his second floor flat in the early afternoon and flags a taxi for the short trip to the Hotel de L'Europe. While it is well within walking distance, the weather is warm for the autumn, and he does not wish to arrive for his interview having broken a sweat under his finely-woven grey suit.

He has every expectation that Dom's colleague, whom he is scheduled to meet, will put him through the hoops much as Dom did the day before. 

Karl likes Dom. For such a short fellow, he commands a big presence, and not only is he sharp as a tack, he's a riot in the pillows. Karl has found that he can relax around Dom, not feel like he has to mind his mouth, and not because Dom hasn't hesitated to call him on it with friendly frankness. Karl's always willing to learn, and he suspects Dom will be a good teacher.

That doesn't remove the fact that he's a little nervous about meeting the man who Dom calls his partner. Something about Dom's tone has tipped Karl to the fact that whoever this guy is, he makes the final decision. 

Karl has just come into the lobby and is crossing towards the dining room when Dom approaches with another young man who is even slighter than Dom. "You look good, mate," Dom says to Karl warmly, appraising the suit. "Elijah Wood, Karl Urban."

Karl's first thought, as he smiles and extends his hand, is that maybe he's got it wrong; maybe a bloke needs to be built like a twink to make it in this city. If Dom is short, Elijah is positively petite: slim frame, finely-boned, complexion like a school boy, ridiculously large eyes that are unwaveringly blue. His second thought is that Elijah hardly presents himself as a business man, and maybe his friend Rashid was full of shit about these guys being high-end. There's no harm in checking it out, though. His third thought, now that he looks, is that Elijah's suit is unbelievably rich, and so's the tie for that matter, and the shirt and the accessories. His fourth thought is that maybe thought two was premature.

"Thank you for being able to meet with me," Elijah says. "I thought you and I might sit out in the galleria by the canal and talk for a while. It's a nice day and we might as well enjoy it. Dominic, we'll see you a little later." And just like that, without a word uttered on his part, Karl is on his own. He's sorry to lose his ally. 

He follows Elijah though the dining room where crisp linen surfaces are being relaid for the late lunch and early evening guests, out to their table in the covered galleria. 

Once seated, Elijah queries Karl right off the top about his use of recreational drugs and alcohol. ("Dom tells me the two of you have talked about abuse, and that it's not an issue." "That's right," Karl responds. "It's not." "Good," Elijah replies, "because it's a deal breaker.")

"What brought you to Amsterdam?" Elijah then asks. He needs to assess the likelihood of Karl staying long enough to bring a return on investment. 

"Sex and the city," Karl smiles. He's really feeling the need to lighten things up, see if this lad has a chink in his Rich Suit armour. 

"Do you have a plan?" Elijah asks.

"Not really," Karl admits, "apart from seeing how it might pay my way. Bit of a lark, really."

Elijah offers a small smile. "I appreciate your candour. But Amsterdam is a city where sex is available around the clock from a wealth of very attractive men. So if you're planning on becoming an escort of any worth, having a point of difference is pretty much a necessity. Have you thought about yours?"

Karl gives this an iota of consideration and shrugs. "How about my charm and gameness?" he grins, trying both on for size.

Elijah isn't biting; he's long been immune to fly-by-night interlopers who think their surface allure will be their ticket onwards. "That will only get you so far in this business," he says. "If you're serious about making this a viable livelihood, then I'd like to know if you're serious about working on your personal brand."

The smile fades from Karl's lips as he reshuffles his game plan. _Personal brand?_ "Maybe," he answers. 

"Look at me, Karl," Elijah says as two wine glasses are placed before them as if by hidden order, Elijah's filled for sampling, approved, and the waiter dismissed. "Let me tell you what you see. Young, small, a definite bottom, smartly dressed, contained manner and thus discreet, rather aloof but confident. Observant. Polite. Respectful, someone who wouldn't be an embarrassment. Handsome in a pretty, boyish kind of way. Sexual body language says I'd be attentive, subservient, might break if handled. As a result, big men _like_ me; they like me _a lot._ And as you can plainly see, most men are bigger than me. Could I make it down on Warmoesstraat? In a heartbeat. Do I want to? No. I hold out for the richer fish, and that too is part of my body language. Being with me, then, becomes a much desired trophy fuck. That's _my_ brand. So let me ask you again: do you want to work on developing yours?"

Well, Karl thinks, Elijah's no shrinking violet, nor is his seeming youth something to dismiss lightly. His gaze steadies on those ridiculously childlike eyes in a face that has begun to launch his ship for exactly the reasons Elijah has described. He reflects back to the command Elijah seems to have happening invisibly all around him – with Dom, the slightest of nods from the maitre d' when they entered, the wine order at a superbly situated table – and Karl suspects that any client who lays hands on Elijah does so only at Elijah's choosing. He wouldn't be surprised if Elijah has worked himself to a place where johns thank him for being blessed with a fuck. "Yes," he finally says.

"Good," Elijah replies. "Because to make it in this business, you need to think like a business man, not like a hustler."

Karl sips his wine to disguise the fact that he needs to swallow.

"Have you ever taken money for sex?"

Karl wonders if cash stuffed in his hand against the brick wall of a back alley or in the stall of a grotty washroom counts as far as the likes of Elijah are concerned. He hesitates as he tries to phrase his answer.

"Karl," Elijah says quietly, well knowing that Karl's done with trying to shake his tree. "I don't want you to be nervous with me. I already know that I could get you good-paying work. But what I need to find out is what your experience has been in transactional sex. It gives me a starting point on what we'll need to develop."

"It's been pretty much limited to rough trade," Karl concedes. "Otherwise, I usually put out for free."

"Okay," Elijah says. "What are you comfortable with? Switching?"

"No problem."

"Women?"

Both of Karl's brows go up.

"No-sex escort work. It's good money."

"Then absolutely," Karl agrees.

"You ever subbed?"

"Not much experience in role play."

"Okay. We can do work on that if you're interested. It would increase your draw. Anything make you uncomfortable? Cum on your face? Things inserted? Being tied up?

"No to the first, depends on the second, and as long as I feel safe to the third."

"We've got clients who are into all kinds of kink, but you'll never be put in danger. We monitor each other on the job, especially anything that has a suspicion of risk."

"How much risk?"

"At first, with every new client. Anytime you're outnumbered. Anytime the client either wants to give or receive pain. Anytime you're off the beaten path. How comfortable are you with being hit?"

"In all honesty, I may need practice with that one."

"Fair enough, we can do that. What about water sports?"

"I'd let someone piss in my mouth if the price were right."

Elijah cracks a smile. "What about scat?"

"I'd pass."

"So would I," Elijah says. "And that's something we'd want to hear about." 

He inhales and sits back. "We have a certain code of conduct, both for our escorts and for our clients. You'd be entertaining men who by and large live respectably. No one with connections to crime, no matter how much money they offer. We don't tolerate anything that risks the health of our escorts. If you have a complaint about any client, you would tell me, and that client would either go on a watch list or get fired.

"Whenever you're on the job," Elijah continues, "you're groomed and tailored. Your etiquette has to be to a high standard. You never discuss a client with another client, not unless you want to find yourself in the middle of a political scandal and permanently out of work. You're expected to keep fit, be skilled in a few sports. It helps to understand a few languages or foreign phrases. Our clients have a wide range of tastes, so you need to constantly build your fund of knowledge. If you're invited to attend a play or concert or the opera, know something about it before you go. If you don't know enough to hold your own in intellectual discourse, know when to keep your mouth shut and listen. 

"You won't see money change hands. You're booked through me, and you get paid weekly. If your booking involves travel, the client pays your way."

He pauses. "If you want to freelance on the side with your own clients, I have no problem with that as long as it doesn't impact on the time you commit to me. Potentially, the most problematic aspect of the job will be offers under the table from my referrals. They're very tempting. When an offer happens, and it will, I want to know about it. From you, not via the grapevine. If one of my clients wants to refer you to a friend, you direct him to me. If I learn that you're giving your number out to my referrals, we're done. Now, ask me a question."

"What can you give me that will keep me from deciding, in a half year's time, from going it alone?"

That wasn't the first question Elijah was expecting. But he's planned for it.

"Only the quality of our referral base and network of contacts. Our vetting of clients and reporting that to you beforehand. Your time and expense saved from cruising, and the assurance that the john we send isn't going to beat you up or rip you off. Self-employment support, such as accounting, how to manage your taxes and deductible expenses. Paid monthly medical checks. Down the road, health insurance. Beyond that, it'll be your decision."

"What's my cut?"

"Seventy percent. Straight escort, no sex, an evening's work is five hundred euros, less the top. An evening one-on-one sexual favour, one thousand euros. Two on one, seventeen fifty. Twenty-four hours, twenty-five hundred. A week, ten thousand Euros, a month, thirty thousand. All tips and gifts are yours. If we decide to start you, it will be with established clients whom we'll follow up with. Your first ten assignments will go that route. If all goes well, we'll then send you new clients."

Karl whistles softly under his breath. Even with the top skimmed off, this kind of money sounds too easy. "You actually have clients who pay that kind of money?" he asks.

Elijah doesn't answer right away. When he does, he says, "I have clients who pay more than that. Those are your rates."

Not for the first time, Karl wonders just what it is that Elijah does when the bedroom doors shut and the clothes come off. Maybe he's got a gilded ass and silken tongue. Or maybe it's the fact that Elijah comes across as forbidden fruit, and that making Elijah open his cheeks and groan helplessly must be the sweetest sexual victory a man can know. 

He's certainly beginning to feel the burn that makes him want to find out. 

Karl's quiet for a moment, busily working numbers in his head. 

"I have to be frank," Elijah says. "The fact you have no referrals or experience is a concern. The reputations of our clients are paramount. I'm going to need a bond of fifty thousand euros if we start you, redeemed if you fuck up."

Karl is astounded, and his face shows it. "I don't have that kind of money," he sputters.

"Then this might not be your kind of game," Elijah replies. "It would only be for the first eighteen months, after which it would be rescinded. Long enough for you and me to see if this is your fit. I can recommend a lending institution."

The conversation has taken a direction Karl doesn't like. "Jesus, mate. How do I know that you and Dom -- and Rashid for that matter -- aren't fleecing me? "

Elijah's gaze is steady. "You don't, Karl. How do I know you won't blackmail my clients? This levels the playing field a little. Consider it that we both hold a gun to each other's heads. I would suggest that you do your own homework on me, much as I have on you. If you need some names and numbers, I can provide them."

Karl's busily working a whole new group of numbers. "If I do this, I would expect you to keep me very busy this first year."

"That's entirely your choice," Elijah says. "You prove that you're what we're looking for, and your ass will be selling tickets by Christmas, I can assure you. The bond will become insignificant."

Karl draws a deep breath, and they both sit without speaking, Karl's fingers idly spinning the base of the wine glass. Finally he says, "You said _if you decide to start me._ All right. I'm in. Where do we go from here?"

Elijah pushes his unfinished wine an inch to the side. "I need to see you perform," he says. "Let's join Dominic upstairs."

 

Part Three

Dom is padding about in a low slung bath towel, wet hair slicked back, when Elijah and Karl enter the day rental suite. "Gentlemen," he says amiably, walking to the wet bar. He dips into the fridge and removes three bottles of water.

Elijah takes one and, untwisting the top and unbuttoning his jacket, settles into an arm chair next to the sofa. Dom offers Karl a bottle and then walks across to the bed, whose top linens have been peeled back to the floor. He discards the towel and lies down on the bed, resting on one elbow while he takes a drink.

"Karl," Elijah says. "Everything you do from this point forward is being evaluated."

"Not that you should feel any performance anxiety," Dom pipes up.

"What I mean to say," Elijah continues, "is that how you undress is important, how you move. Everything is an enticement. Focus on the details. It's not all about the sex act."

Karl's palms are already sweaty. "Okay," he says.

Elijah tilts the bottle, taking a drink. "Please," he says, "take off your clothes."

Karl slowly walks across the room towards Elijah's chair, fingering the knot in his tie, and he slides it free, laying it on the sofa cushion. He watches Elijah watch him, and an easy smile slides into place as their eyes meet. Okay, Karl thinks, he can do this. Jacket buttons are next, then shirt buttons, and each garment is removed and laid neatly on the sofa cushions. He fingers his belt, undoes it, then his trousers, unzipping the fly and peeling the flaps back. He neatly folds himself to unlace one shoe, then the next, toeing them off. All his moves are fluid, slow, not showy, but definitely allowing time for both Elijah and Dom to appreciate the trim fitness he keeps himself in.

Karl stands and peels off his underwear. He's not hard, not anywhere near it. He crooks his hand towards his flaccid cock and smiles sheepishly, as if apologizing to Elijah.

"Then you buy time," Elijah says. "A little kissing, helping the john undress if that's called for. If not, you lie down on the bed and watch him get naked, and you do what Dom's doing."

Karl turns to find Dom idly pulling his cock. Dom waggles his eyebrows. 

"Or," Elijah says, "you give the client a blow job, like you're going to give me."

Dom immediately stops palming himself. Whatever happened to Elijah being off the meter? "Elijah," he says quietly. "Let Karl give me the blow job," but he's already speaking to Elijah's hand, which has come up to silence him. 

"I want your mouth on me, Karl," Elijah says. "Show me what you know."

Karl's on his knees between the V of Elijah's trousered thighs in one graceful moment of descent. It's a capitulation Elijah knows well, and he can't help the tiny tremor of a smile that teases the edge of his mouth. He slowly places his bottle on the side table and rests both hands on the chair's arms as Karl unbuckles his belt. The zippered fly slides silently as it's undone, and Karl carefully pushes aside the plackets so the fabric won't crease. He tugs the shirt free, its weave so tight and polished that he figures it easily has to have cost several hundred euros. Karl lifts the snug elastic of Elijah's briefs and slips it down beneath his balls, letting the taut stretch lift and plump them forward. There is not a hair in sight.

"You won't have to do that," Elijah says of his denuded groin. "It's a look that works for me, but unless you want it, I would say that just a little trim and strip would be more in keeping with your overall presentation. The natural look works well on you."

"Doesn't keep me from appreciating this, though," Karl says, gently cupping Elijah's balls in his palm, stroking their smoothness with a thumb. 

"Okay," Elijah says quietly. "Take me for a test ride."

Dom leans back against the pillowed head board, his hand drifting towards his cock again, eyelids shuttering heavily. _Oh Elijah,_ he thinks, warmth blossoming in his pelvis.

Karl dips down, his mouth closing lightly around the velvet head of Elijah's limp cock. He holds it in one hand, and with his other arm, reaches around and pulls Elijah's hips forward. His mouth moves down and off, down again and back, tongue coming out to flicker against the underside of the head, then down once more as Elijah watches him. A small twitch escapes from the fingers of Elijah's left hand but beyond that, nothing more. 

The separation of the doer from the one being done is second nature to Elijah. Getting hard is simply a biological response; he can firm up without investing any desire or interest in whose mouth is sliding over him. And so it is with Karl, notwithstanding the fact that Karl has a nice approach – sufficiently wet, a little noisy to please the ear, good pressure overall and a gentle but firm hand. Elijah begins to fill and lift, and Karl's hand slides up and twists every time his mouth moves off.

"Look at me," Elijah says, and Karl looks up, lips pursed around cock, cheeks hollowing. "Always give lots of eye contact, like you're taking in with more than your mouth." He lifts his hand and thumbs gently along Karl's brow. "You've got great eyes, great brows, very expressive. Be sure to use them." He combs his fingers through Karl's hair before gently putting pressure on the back of his skull where he's met with a moment of resistance. "Try not to let having your face forced onto a cock bother you. It's natural to want to balk, but it's his money. Swallow his cock like it's the only one you'll ever want. Now take me as deep as you can."

The pressure of Elijah's hand is a little stronger than Karl is able to adjust to and he gags and pulls back a little. "Just get right back at it," Elijah tells him. Karl does, gagging a little, and Elijah lets him pull back and regroup. "Keep doing it," he reminds him, and Karl's arm tightens around Elijah's hips, his throat opening as he goes down. He's not used to being used this way. Most of the guys he's blown have been grateful just to have a mouth at their disposal. 

Elijah tugs him back gently. "You're doing fine. It's something you're going to have to practice, either with a dildo or with Dom over there," and Dom laughs from the other side of the room. "You want to be in control of the blow job, not the other way around, and you want them never forgetting how good you are."

"Listen up, brother," Dom chimes from the bed. "I can personally tell you that you're kneeling at the feet of a master. He's even able to take _me_ down to the root, need I say more?"

Lapping lazily at the head of Elijah's cock, Karl looks up at him with a hint of a grin, and rolls his eyes. 

Elijah grins back. "We do indulge him his fantasies," he says. "Now show me what else you can do."

Karl takes hold of Elijah's cock, and eyes smokily cast upwards, tongues down over the balls, stopping only when he captures one in his mouth where his lips and tongue leisurely roll and suck it.

"Oh, that's nice," Elijah sighs, hips jerking a little. He strokes a little deeper into Karl's hair, his chin rising and eyes falling shut. "That's really nice."

On the other side of the room, Dom's cock leaps a little and his breath catches. There's a bittersweet quality to seeing the flush rise in Elijah's rigid cock. It was something he had reconciled never seeing again. He groans low, the image of Karl's dark head cradled by Elijah's hand spiking sharp pangs in his balls, of Karl's hand holding Elijah's prick taut, a thumb flicking wetly under the furled crown. Both of Dom's thighs spasm, and he gasps, only to see Elijah's eyelids lift slowly to watch him.

Elijah tugs Karl's hair. "That's enough," he says, eyes still on Dom. He silently berates himself.

"You sure?" Karl asks, hand slowly twisting along Elijah's shaft. 

Elijah looks down at him, running a finger along Karl's glistening lip. "I'm sure," he says. "You did that last part really nicely."

Karl's surprised at the pleasure this statement brings, even more so at the fact that his own pleasure had been set aside. He's still not rigid, but things are perking up. Elijah slips his own hand over the one on his cock, gently removing it, and Karl sits back on his haunches and strokes himself, watching as Elijah takes a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket and dries off.

"Getting your cock primed is critical whenever you've been hired to top," Elijah says, pulling his briefs up over his erection and sliding it to one side. "So when you're blowing a guy, use the time to stroke off while your mouth is on him." He draws his zipper up. "You think you might be ready for Dom now? I know he's ready for you."

Karl turns his head to where Dom, flushed, turgid and looking like he'll eat either one of them in the next instant, sits poised on the bed, ready to spring. "Mate," Karl laughs. "You managing all right over there?"

"Come put me out of my fucking misery," Dom groans.

Karl grins and gets up, walking to the bed where Dom grabs his hip with one hand, tugging him forward, and wraps the other around Karl's cock. "Whores don't usually come with fluffers, ya big ponce," he says. "Consider this a favour," and he descends avidly, taking Karl deep and hard. 

Karl's hands fly up to brace himself on Dom's shoulders. "Give a man warning!" he barks out.

It takes Dom less than a minute to have Karl -- buttocks clenched and fingers leaving divots in Dom's back -- rigid and bobbing. "You want to bring that one out when the clock is ticking," Dom says, wiping his mouth. He releases Karl and falls slowly onto the sheets, turning onto his stomach, arms stretched up under the pillow. "Be gentle with me," he pouts coquettishly and he pulls one knee up to expose himself. "Lube's on the night stand, by the way."

Karl's still breathing heavily from the hoovering Dom has delivered. "You can be a nasty little prick," he pants.

"Produced a big one, all that matters," Dom grins. "Lay it on me, brother."

Karl picks up the lube and gazes down at Dom, then trails the back of his fingers slowly along the length of his spine. Having enjoyed Dom's own personal audition the day before, he knows that Dom's an athletic fuck whether he tops or bottoms. But Karl is remembering what Elijah advised. Much as he'd like to pound Dom through the floor boards and into the room below, he's beginning to see how this works, that the objective is to constantly give pleasure. He squirts a pebble's worth of lube on the small of Dom's back and tosses the bottle onto the sheets. Climbing upon the bed between Dom's spread thighs, he begins to smear with both hands, down into Dom's crease, fingers tracing slowly, into the pout of his hole and down further, up and out over his buttocks, massaging and working the muscles beneath his hands until Dom begins to purr like a kitten.

"S'nice," Dom sighs, eyes closed. 

Karl inches down, half on and half off the bed, so that his face draws close to Dom's ass, and spreading the cheeks he blows softly against Dom's hole.

"Ready for more," Dom murmurs.

Karl slips his middle finger into Dom, lubing as he goes, and immediately, Dom locks down on it. 

"This a test?" Karl asks, "or are you just shy?"

"You'd be surprised how often that's the reaction," Dom says. "Let me feel you work it out."

Karl reaches across and grabs the lube, drizzling it like icing onto his probing finger.

"That’s right," Dom sighs. "One can never have enough lube."

A second finger is inserted and then a third, deep, stretching.

"Riiiight there, mate," Dom says. "Back up. You feel that? I want you to visualize it. It should look like a money sign. You trace it well enough, it'll begin to _feel_ like a money sign. Yeah, you've got it. Now how be you find it with your cock?"

Karl gives Dom's prostate a departing flutter and withdraws his fingers. He wipes off on the sheet, then reaches up to grab a pillow and hoist Dom's pelvis up onto it. 

Dom is like a satisfied play toy, limp and smiling, eyes closed. He hugs the pillow beneath his head and sprawls, ass bolstered and at the ready. He quite likes his role of Official Tester. It reminds him of a story he once read about Catherine the Great having one of her own. He draws his knees up higher to give Karl a better angle.

Right now, Karl is trying very hard to focus on his hand, his cock, Dom's ass and _not_ Elijah. Since the time he moved over to the bed, there hasn't been a stir from the arm chair, but the silent presence in the corner is thunderously loud in Karl's thoughts. There's a part telling him to just fuck it, go for broke; there's another part warning him not to fuck up, there's a six-digit fortune in the offing, and that's _just the first year._ He needs to get into Dom before he loses what Dom worked so diligently to give him. Slicking himself generously, he parks his cock up against Dom's anus and slowly pushes in.

There's a groan from both of them. 

Karl curls forward, holding himself up on both arms and starts an agonizingly slow thrust. As he feels Dom relax around him, his tempo picks up, back and forth, on and on. He asks Dom how it feels. Lovely, he's told. On he thrusts. 

On and on.

"Karl," Elijah says from the other side of the room. He stands and removes his jacket, hanging it neatly on the back of the desk chair. He approaches the bed and places a knee on the sheet right next to Karl's thigh. "May I?" he quietly asks, and Karl nods silently. _Fuck_. 

_Here we go,_ Dom thinks. He well knows the game Elijah can bring to a bed. 

"Fold down onto one elbow so that your stomach and your chest rest lightly all along his back," Elijah says, placing his fingers on the small of Karl's back, then the palm, slowly sliding his hand upwards, exerting a pressure that's barely there. "That's it, just a whisper so that he can feel your skin all along his back." Elijah has curled down a little closer, his mouth right behind Karl's ear, the fine cotton of his shirt cool along Karl's back and side. 

_He smells so fucking good,_ Karl thinks, and his cock thumps within Dom's ass.

"Easy, sailor," Dom murmurs. 

"Now take your other hand and slide it lightly, all along here." Elijah shows him what he means by ghosting his own hand along Dom's flank up onto Dom's trembling shoulder and biceps. "Keep your touches light so that he'll want to feel more of them. Your cock is only one of many equal tools."

Elijah places Karl's hand where his own had been, watches as it skims the fine hair along Dom's arm. "You're right against him now, but you've still got good leverage in your hips and a free hand to reach under and take his cock. And your mouth is where you want it to be so that you can tongue and kiss, ask him what he likes, what feels good, talk a little dirty. And he'll tell you because he doesn't have to look at you. When he closes his eyes, you are every fantasy he's ever had. That right, Dom?"

"Oh fuck," Dom groans because he can smell Elijah's cologne now.

"He wants from you the intimate, erotic sex he's never been able to have with a man. Ten, maybe twenty percent of your clients will want an impersonal hard fuck, something they've seen in a porn film. But the rest are here because they want something they haven't been able to get outside this room. They may be married. They may be lonely. They may be closeted. They may be ashamed. But you're going to take that all away while they're with you. Consider it sexual therapy."

Karl brushes his face along the ruff of Dom's hair, mouths down to his ear lobe, sucks it into his mouth.

"That's right," Elijah whispers at his ear. Karl can just about taste the hint of oak and cherries still lingering on Elijah's breath.

"Oh God," Dom pleads because it's like Elijah is fucking him by proxy.

Karl feels Elijah's hand slide back down his back to his tail bone where it presses ever so gently. "With each stroke, you want to hit that sweet spot," Elijah tells him. "Dig for it, slip just about out and then carve slowly back along the front wall. See if you can actually feel it with the head of your cock."

Karl pulls out. The desire to plunge back in is ferocious, but he slips forward slowly until he's seated. Nothing.

"Let's get rid of this," Elijah murmurs, slipping the pillow out from under Dom and dropping it to the floor. He nudges Dom's thigh higher to widen the spread. "Flatten him out a little so you've got a better angle. Keep it slow, worshipful. Try it again." 

The last thing Karl figured he'd need is a lesson in fucking. Then again, he's never really fucked for the other bloke's pleasure, which might tell him something about why he's in a hotel room in Amsterdam auditioning with two whores. But that's a thought for another day. 

He backs out again and yeah, the angle is sharper, and as he slides through, Dom makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a moan, and Elijah quietly tells Karl _there you go_ and moves away from his back. 

For the second time that day, Karl is sorry to lose an ally.

Each wet stroke wrings another noise from Dom, whose back and face have begun to flush, and he starts babbling about needing a bit more speed, please and thanks, and oh Christ, would someone grab his willy before he has to do it himself?

Karl smirks and slides his hand beneath Dom, who mewls and twitches as Karl fists him, and Dom opens his eyes to find Elijah crouching next to the bed, watching him.

"Oh fuck," Dom cries again and slams them closed.

"Come on," Karl tells him. "I know you're just about there. If you were any harder, you'd be stone." He has ratcheted up his thrusts now that he's got the hang of it and can feel Dom's ass reaching up to meet him every time he skewers downwards.

"Quick, let me turn over," Dom cries frantically.

Karl withdraws and sits back just in time to clear Dom's scrambling knees. When Dom has flipped onto his back, Karl grabs one of his ankles and stretches the leg up and back over his own forearm, plunging back in, hand circling Dom's cock tightly. "How are you liking my fat Kiwi cock now, little man?" he growls.

Dom huffs a desperate laugh and grabs Karl behind the neck, pulling himself upwards. "Quit flapping your tongue and shove it down my throat," he slurs, and Karl dives forward, mouth first.

From where he crouches less than three feet away, Elijah knows that Karl is already a hire. The fact that Karl acquiesced to his intrusion, took the information and ran with it, augurs well. And Karl in _coitus_ – muscled limbs glistening beneath tawny skin, dark hair mussed into just-fucked tufts – would be too sweet an opportunity to pass up, regardless of obvious limitations. Dom's right: Karl _is_ a diamond in the rough and sexy as fuck. He's got more than enough carnal appeal and disarming enthusiasm to carry him successfully on an assignment. There's a cheeky playfulness about him that Elijah thinks could be the key to Karl's eventual success. He's reminded of Dom in that regard, and god knows Dom has made sassiness a calling card. 

"You could be dangerously sexy," Dom grunts into Karl's mouth, echoing Elijah's thoughts.

Karl is breathing like a bellows, his hips beginning to kick in small jerks.

"Let Dom come first," Elijah warns from beside the bed. 

Karl wails as he pulls back and kneels, just the tip of his cock still within Dom, his free hand planted firmly around the base, the other working Dom feverishly. 

"Yeah," Dom groans, neck arching. "Yeah, yeah, of fuck, yeah."

Karl can feel Dom's orgasm begin to creep against his palm and the head of his cock. "That's it, sweetheart," he snarls. "Show me how dangerously sexy you can be all on your own."

Dom's eyes flash up towards the ceiling before falling heavily back behind their lids, and he begins to pump in frantic spurts over Karl's busy fingers.

All three of them are quiet while Dom's breathing settles and Karl's grows more agitated.

"Ask him how he wants you to come," Elijah eventually tells Karl.

"Name it, mate," Karl grinds out at Dom, the heaviness in his pelvis burning for release. "And don't fucking dither about. On you? In you?" 

Elijah suppresses a smirk as Karl clamps his mouth shut and glances at him in contrition. 

Dom's floating back to earth, eyes closed and blissfully spent, the fingers of one hand idly smearing semen along his tummy, a heel rubbing lightly along the side of Karl's calf. "Nah," he mumbles. "How 'bout you wind it down a notch. I want to watch you wank a bit."

Karl bows his head and grimaces, pulling out of Dom, one hand still tight about himself. He can't trust his other hand on his own skin, not yet.

"Look at me," Dom says and Karl's eyes draw up, black and torchy. 

If the current protocol allowed him to punch Dom's lights out, he'd clock him a good one, the fucking little cock tease.

"How about you give that fat Kiwi pecker a nice long pull, pretty please, yeah?"

Karl takes himself gently with his free hand, the other still solidly holding himself at bay, and he groans as he begins to work himself.

"Sometimes," Dom says, his other heel coming up to stroke Karl's thigh, "you'll get a punter who's all about his own pleasure, although that's more the case when you're the bottom. Sometimes, they don't even care if you get off," and he stops while Karl whines at the very thought of it. "Lucky for you, though, you'll pretty much be topping, I suspect. Your challenge is going to be controlling when you come. Not too soon, Goldilocks, not too late either. So learn to ride the edge of it. How're you doing?"

"I'm dying," Karl admits.

"Here, put it back in me and give me your hands."

Karl slips back into Dom, just a little, and threads his fingers through Dom's, which have reached up to him.

"Now slide onto me," Dom says quietly, pulling Karl forward which slips him in deeper. "Lay right here on top of me. Yeah, that's it. Just rock."

They ebb and flow against each other for a bit, hands high above them on the sheets, Karl's face pressed into Dom's neck, Dom humming into his ear. "All right," Dom finally says. "Any time."

And just like that, Karl lets himself crest, and he hangs there for an exquisite moment before pulsing into emptiness. He hears Elijah stand up and walk back across the room, and he supposes he should get up and he will, in a minute, after Dom lets go of his hands. 

Which he isn't doing just yet, thank you Dom, very much, mate, thank you.

*

After Karl has showered and is fixing his tie, Elijah hands him a small business card which he's written on. "Feel free to call this gentleman," Elijah says. "He'll be expecting to hear from you."

Karl takes the card, which is from a gallery, with the owner's name and details on the reverse.

"If Ian asks to meet with you, I would do it," Elijah says. "He'll be very forthcoming with any questions you may have."

"Very," Dom parrots. "Forthcoming."

*

"So what was with the blow job?" Dom asks once Karl has seen himself out. "If I recall our conversation on Sunday, I thought you were stepping away from every type of sexual congress. All whoring pre-empted by Orlando or some such."

"Karl's not a john," Elijah replies. 

"You say 'tomato' and I say that you knew that Karl gives decent head when you walked into this room. I told you I'd checked that out yesterday." 

Elijah watches as Dom tucks his shirt into his trousers. "It was necessary," he finally says. 

"You think that's going to matter to Orlando?" Dom tosses back, zipping up.

"That's something for Orlando and me to sort out," Elijah says a little testily, then frowns, annoyed with his tone. "I'm sorry," he says, walking over to Dom and petting his hair before he pulls him into a hug. "I'm sorry. But it's a start-up concession that I need to make. I'm well aware of how I come across to someone like Karl, how I go against every concept he has of an alpha male. He's run his own show his own way for a long time. Right now, I interest him because he can't figure me out. I need to keep it that way. So it goes like this: he sucks my cock, I don't suck his. He gets his schooling with me at his hip or with those I select in my place. Later on, I'm going to take him around, get him a wardrobe, introduce him to a few people and sell him on where I see him going. He needs to know without a doubt that the 30% he doesn't take home will be the best investment he's ever made."

"A page from Sun-Tzu? Friends close, enemies closer?"

"More like a seduction," Elijah smiles. "I want to be in his head. Make him believe he can't live without me."

Dom buries his face into Eijah's hair. "Just so I can prepare: How many of these two-man interviews do you figure I'll have to endure?"

Elijah strokes Dom's cheek and kisses his temple. "I know, I know," he whispers. "Not many, I hope. Just quit bringing me whores who need training wheels." 

Dom squeezes him close and smacks a kiss behind his ear. "The next one comes with carpet burns, should just need a chat. A wee Scotsman from Glasgow. Been working escort in Edinburgh and London, looking for an introduction to the continent. Speaks French about as badly as me, even less of anything else. But he's smart and he's quiet, and he can top like a footballer and bottom like a virgin. He's not a beauty like you, but he might work at filling your gap."

"Yeah?" Elijah asks. "What's his name?"

"James McKiltie-Tartan-something. I can't remember right off."

"Set it up," Elijah says.

*

That night, after picking up a bagged meal and a few bottles of Heineken, Karl turns on his new laptop and Googles the name of the gallery owner Elijah has given him. His search spiders out into a variety of news articles and business associations. It takes him no time to find a raft of images of this fellow with Elijah somewhere in the shots: sometimes he's just one in the background, other times he's by his side. On occasion, Dom's floating around the scenery as well.

Karl sets the card under his cell phone. He'll call this bloke in the morning.

Later on, he lies in bed, and his mind is a whir of both the day's events and the promise of times to come. He takes himself in hand and strokes, slowly at first and then with greater vigor. As he beats off, taking himself to the edge of release and then pulling back from it, again and again, an image keeps playing in his head on a deepening, orgasmic loop. And it is that of his cock buried deeply between Elijah's sweet gap-toothed lips, blue eyes gazing upwards into his.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Author's Note:_  
>  Fluffer: (noun) a person in the adult entertainment industry whose job it is to give male porn stars blowjobs in order to get them ready to perform. (Urban Dictionary)


End file.
